


Keep a Grip (and Take a Deep Breath)

by takemetofantasyland



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, violence in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 11:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofantasyland/pseuds/takemetofantasyland
Summary: Dmitry's deepest fear of losing Anya manifests itself in a nightmare. Anya tries her best to comfort him, the way he helps her with her own nightmares.





	Keep a Grip (and Take a Deep Breath)

Before boarding the train they had been extremely careful to check everything twice, and once again for good luck. They had checked tickets and papers and Dmitry had quietly reminded Anya not to speak any of their names until they were off the train. 

She had nodded, but still tugged at her sleeve nervously. The woman, who in the remains of the palace had laughed and danced, now stood still as stone in the station.

Dmitry hadn’t taken a deep breath since they had arrived at the platform. His shoulders were stiff and his knuckles were white from gripping his suitcase. He knew he wouldn’t be able to exhale until they reached Paris.

Everything had gone as planned as they boarded the train. Dmitry chose a bench in the compartment and Anya and Vlad quickly sat beside him. The train rolled out of the station and he couldn’t help but realize this might be the last glimpse he’d ever get of Russia. 

Vlad lamented about Lily, his long lost love, and Anya was eating it up. Anya was at ease, at least for now, and that was what was most important. Dmitry worried that this would overwhelm her, or if it would hit her all at once that she was acting as the lost grand duchess and she would misspeak on the train. The trip was long, and they only needed to cross the border to get out of Russia. They just needed to cross the border. 

Dmitry closed his eyes to rest, unsure exactly where they were. Vlad was out next to him and Anya gazed out the window. 

The train slowed to a stop. Anya gazed out the window to see rolling country fields. She turned over her shoulder to look at Dmitry. 

“Where are we?” she whispered fiercely.

Dmitry’s eyes snapped open. He looked beyond her and out the window. 

“We weren’t supposed to stop until we got to Paris!” Dmitry replied as he turned and shook Vlad’s shoulder to wake him. 

The compartment door opened and two bolshevik officers boarded the train. “We need to see travel papers! Papers, please!” 

Passengers scrambled to pull their papers from their luggage and Vlad clasped his hand over his mouth as he looked at Dmitry. Dmitry arched his brow and Anya dug her nails into Dmitry’s wrist. 

“Papers!” the officer demanded.

“Is there a problem, officer?” Vlad asked. 

The officer stood over them. “There is someone leaving the country illegally on this train. Papers, please.”

Anya dug her nails harder into Dmitry’s wrist and he winced. 

“Miss, your travel papers?” The officer demanded. 

“That’s no way to speak to a lady, sir. Her papers are in her luggage, of course!” Vlad began to ramble to buy them some time. 

“That’s funny, because she fits the description of a fugitive, fleeing the country!” the officer spat back at Vlad. 

“Seems we have misplaced some papers here,” Vlad laughed nervously. 

“Miss, come with me,” the officer motioned at Anya. 

Anya turned to look at Dmitry and he shook his head. She turned to look back at the officer and released her grip on Dmitry’s arm. 

He bit his lip as she released his arm, suddenly missing the pressure of her nails digging into his wrist. 

“Miss,” the officer repeated.

Anya stood and he seized her by the arm. Anya stumbled at his sudden grip. Vlad clasped a hand over his mouth. 

Dmitry swallowed hard as passengers turned to look at them. Passengers had filled into the aisles to watch. The officer gripped Anya by the arm and began to lead her down the aisle, pushing passengers out of the way. Anya turned back and reached out her hand in a hopeless attempt to grab Dmitry’s hand. “Dmitry!” she cried as the officer led her through the crowded compartment. 

She was so small he almost immediately lost sight of her straw colored hair. 

“Dmitry!” Anya cried again, her voice desperate as she disappeared from view. 

* * *

His eyes snapped open, his throat was dry and his chest heaved like he had the wind knocked out of him. His undershirt was soaked through with sweat.

Dmitry looked around, finding himself in the soft bed of an apartment, his apartment—their apartment. His fingers gripped the sheets and blankets, grounding him as he looked around. 

Anya was fast asleep by his side, her soft curls sprawled across the pillow, her chest rising and falling in her deep sleep. 

He shifted beside her and sat up, trying to get his breathing under control. She was there, beside him. She was safe, beside him. They were in an apartment in Paris, not on a train somewhere near the Russian border. 

Anya stirred beside him and rolled over to face him, her eyes slowly opening. She reached out and took his hand in her own and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. 

He looked down at her, she was here in bed. This is what was real. 

“Dima, are you alright? You sat up suddenly,” Anya said softly. 

“Fine,” he mumbled, his eyes gazing at the wall. 

Anya frowned and sat up, gently reaching up to touch his cheek. 

He turned to look at her with tears in his eyes. Before she could look to closely, he tried to wipe the tears away. She had her own worries, and her own nightmares, and he didn’t want to trouble her with his. 

“Dima,” she whispered as she met his gaze. 

He leaned into her and held her close, thankful for every inch of her.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” Anya said quietly. 

She was silent for a moment as he held her. Anya took a deep breath and turned to him.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Anya asked.

He cracked a smile and laughed. Whenever Anya had nightmares, he tried to tell her a story that would take her mind off the terror. He guessed Anya just thought this was a remedy for a nightmare. 

“Sure,” He replied, as he glanced away and his lips curled into a smile. 

“I’ve got a good one, don’t worry,” Anya promised. 

She sat up on her knees and took his hands in her own, closing her eyes to remember exactly how it began. 

“So this is a story about a prince, but he wasn’t how you would think of a prince. He was like a people’s prince, yes, a kind gentleman who didn’t come from wealth or power.”

“Okay,” he laughed. 

“And this prince, he decided to take a chance on a young woman. And so he told her lavish tales of the life she could have if she traveled with him.” Anya smiled. 

Dmitry smiled as he listened to Anya’s story, her voice soft and calm as she spoke. 

“So on their travels, he took her to see the Ballet in Paris. And this young woman had never been to such a grand event that she could remember, so he took her shopping before the ballet to get a gown. It was the prettiest gown she had ever seen, and though she was nervous, she felt safe with him by her side,”

He squeezed her hand and pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

Anya smiled, “But she would never forget the first time she saw him cleaned up in a pressed suit. He was so handsome, she forgot they had a made deal to travel to Paris. And after the ballet the deal would be done”

“Was she the prettiest young woman he had ever seen?” Dmitry asked. 

“I don’t know,” Anya said softy, “He had seen a lot of women in his life. I would say she might be top three–or so–”

“Aw, c’mon, Kiska,” He laughed. 

“This prince doesn’t speak his mind very often, Dima, so this young woman was left wondering if he actually did care for her!” Anya replied, starting to get off track from her story. 

“Mmm, Kiska, tell me more about the ballet,” He laughed, pressing a kiss to her palm. 

“Right, the ballet,” Anya began again. “It was one of the best nights of her life. She was wearing this beautiful gown, she was next to this handsome er–prince, and even though she was nervous, she was excited for the whole experience. And he made her feel like it was going to be alright.”

Dmitry smiled and squeezed her hands. “Thank you,” he said softly as he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. 

“I know it’s not much,”

“Not much? You picked the story about when we went to the ballet to meet your grandmother!” he laughed. 

“It’s one of my favorites,” Anya smiled softly. 

“Mine too,” he replied. “That night at the ballet, that dress on you, you were breathtaking. Don’t ever forget that.”

She smiled and leaned in to press her lips to his. Her fingers traced his jawline, and he smiled against her lips.

“I had a dream—a nightmare— that we never made it off the train. That–that an officer took you away–”

“Dima,” Anya held his jaw in her hands as she held his gaze. “Dima, I’m here. You’re safe. I’m safe.”

He nodded and bit his lip. Dmitry took a deep breath as Anya held her own. She ran her fingers through his hair as it fell into his eyes. 

“Your story reminded me how far we’ve come, and that even when we were scared you trusted me, and I trusted you,” He glanced away from her, the tears back in his eyes, but this time tears of happiness and relief. 

Anya slowly traced his jaw, and tilted his chin up, “I’m here.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her close. Anya gently ran her fingers through his hair. 

Dmitry pulled her back to bed with him, and Anya laughed and tried to resist his strength. He laughed as he pulled her back with him, and she giggled and rolled over to look at him. 

She snuggled down next to him in bed, resting her head on his chest. “You’ve always been here for me, I’ll always be here for you.”

He smiled and pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling her intoxicating scent, and holding her tight as she fell back asleep. 

For once it was her comforting his nightmare instead of him comforting hers. He wasn’t sure he could love her any more than he already did, but he did that night. He rested his chin on the top of her head, burying his nose in her hair. “I love you,” he whispered, once he was sure she was asleep. 

“I love you too, Dima,” Anya mumbled back.


End file.
